


The Soul of the Prince

by Galissia



Series: Legacies Experimental Writing [1]
Category: Legacies (Webcomic), Original Work, The Legends of Canopy Island
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Azalea being confused as hell, Deal with a Devil, Demons, Duality, Escapism, Fantasy, Gen, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multiple Personalities, My babies get ANGSTY, Not really though, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Mythology, Suicide, Temporary Character Death, alternate title: eldrin cries because he's got separation anxiety, and or eldrin, at oliver, azalea screams, because they're both idiots, but be warned, more like self-sacrifice, oliver goes awol and leaves eldrin to deal with his shit, oliver needs a therapist, we love edge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galissia/pseuds/Galissia
Summary: Oliver and Azalea Meiers have been thrust into an unfamiliar fantasy world that has existed right under their noses when it's revealed that they're a part of a prophecy. To make things worse, Azalea can see that Oliver has been hiding something *big* from her, and she's determined to find out what.Eldrin wanted to laugh, but part of him was begging himself not to. It was silly to him that Oliver thought that a fictional story could apply to their real life, but, then again, there they were, two consciousnesses sharing a single body. The idea they could end up like the book wasn’t so far fetched, the longer he thought about it. He shook his head quickly to clear his mind of the thought.“Please.” He parted his lips slightly in partial shock at Oliver’s adamance that he agreed.“I promise,” he said, leaning backward in his little invisible air canopy and folding his arms behind his head. A small smile found its way onto Oliver’s face, causing one to form on Eldrin’s as well. “Plus, if you try suicide, I’ll kill you, you dumbass.”
Series: Legacies Experimental Writing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696615





	The Soul of the Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for language use
> 
> my hyperfixations are pretty obvious at this point i think lmao
> 
> tysm to @ninjasinsocks for proofreading!!!!  
> <3
> 
> there's gonna be more i promise
> 
> hey so this is all hypothetical; I'm playing around with ideas to decide what to put in the final draft of the story, y'know? anyways this is a webcomic I'm making (read it on LINE Webtoon, "Legacies" by GalissiaX). i needed to get the rough outline of the plot put down before I continued any further with it. so I /didn't/ do that, instead I decided "hey, why don't I skip ahead in the story and write a scene that won't happen until the very end instead of writing the parts I need to write to progress through it?" so here we are. none of this is canon to the actual story, unless I decide I really like it. Idk. We'll see how it goes :)

The three demigods gazed up at the intricate designs of the stained glass panels, many depicting divine stories of creation, some of destruction, others of life, and others of death. Many of the murals had cracks or were missing pieces entirely, and vines slithered their way into the building and up towards the ceiling every opportunity they got. Moonlight glimmered and refracted through the colorful glass, leaving a kaleidoscope of patterns on the cracked marble floor below, and moss covered the rubble of a fallen pillar, bathing happily in the evening light. Even in ruin, Azalea decided, the temple seemed as beautiful and serene as ever.

  
They had been sent to a temple the locals called “the Serpent’s Den,” which had been left to rot centuries ago for reasons unknown to the three. Their task was to retrieve a sacred vial of ichor, the blood of the gods, to aid them in the larger journey ahead of them.

  
“So what do we do now?” Azalea asked, placing her hands on her hips. Raibyr shrugged lightly.  
“Not a clue. I suppose we just… look for the vial?” he suggested. They thought that sounded like a solid plan, so they began their search.

  
Not even five minutes into it Oliver stopped and scoffed. Azalea looked up from a dusty corner of the room to see her brother lifting a small glass vial up to his freckled face, a cool blue liquid sloshing around in the bottle. “I assume this is what we’re looking for?” he said, glancing over towards his friends. They looked back in surprise, having honestly expected their search to have been much longer.

  
“Where did you even find that?” Ray asked, pushing himself off the pillar he was leaning against. Oliver turned to face him and held the bottle out, Ray grabbing at it. 

  
“We just assumed it would be hidden well, we didn’t even think to look in plain sight,” Oliver responded, motioning towards an altar engraved in ancient elvish runes and symbols, faded colors snaking their way up the sides of the stone. A small depression was in the center of the pedestal, and Azalea judged it to be the size of the bottle, so assuming it came from there was a safe bet to make.

  
Ray pinched the bottle with two fingers, holding it up to the light and squinting.

  
“Are we sure this is it?” Azalea cautioned, feeling that finding it was simply too easy.

  
“Well,” he said, sloshing the liquid around in a circular motion, “It’s a liquid, and it’s blue.”

  
“How very observant of you,” Oliver quipped.

  
“Hey, I’m just sayin’ that ichor tends to be a liquid and the color blue, and that’s what we’ve got right here.”

  
“It’s just that… this seemed too easy. No traps, no challenges, no puzzles. It was just sitting there,” Azalea cut in, fidgeting with her gloves. Nobody said anything, as they all had been worried about that.

  
They stood for a moment, transfixed in the strange beauty of the swirling liquid, when suddenly a foreboding chill struck their beings. Ray tensed as he recognized the familiar feeling of dread and urgency the presence induced. He didn’t know who or what was there with them, but he knew whoever it was, they were most definitely from Hell.

  
“You just had to say something, didn’t you?” he groaned, Azalea shooting him an offended look.

  
Movement in the shadows beyond the altar distracted them from their heated staring contest. An elegant figure emerged from the darkness, feathered wings the color of charcoal held halfway between open and closed and her red eyes glowing with an emotion unreadable by the others. Obsidian locks curled around her slender face, falling perfectly into place with seemingly zero effort. Shiny horns curved outwards from the sea of black upon her head like a ram’s, adding to her powerful and intimidating aura. As the cold stench of death reached their noses, they almost immediately recognized her as Kyvris, the Goddess of Chaos.

  
She stopped a good twenty feet from the kids, her red satin dress swinging gently to a stop. She stood in silence, observing the three like a predator would prey. Her eyes found their way to Oliver and seemed to linger on the boy for a bit longer than he was comfortable with.

  
“I’m sure you’re aware as to why I am here,” the goddess said, gently grasping her elbows with gloved hands. “I do not wish to take what I need against your will but if you force my hand I will have no choice but to.”

  
“What, you think we’re just gonna hand this over to you? No way in Hell are we doing that,” Raibyr shot, still peeved from the inconvenience that was Kyvris’ arrival. She looked at him with a blank expression, as if not registering the words being said. Her eyes fluttered down to the glass vial in his hand and she chuckled briefly. 

  
“Oh, you think I want that dirty old thing? Please, do take that. I’ve got plenty of my own already-- and of much better quality, I assure you,” she said, placing a hand over her heart.

  
“Then what do you want? We’re not mind readers or somethin’, we don’t have the slightest clue what you’re here for.”  


“Oh, but he does, and that’s all that’s important,” she replied, eyes still fixated on Oliver. He stood with a look of stoic realization and lowered his head, letting out a small ‘oh’ as he did. 

  
“What are you talking about…?” Azalea asked, looking confusedly towards Oliver. He was staring at the ground with a look on his face as if being berated or screamed at for doing something wrong, his hand on his forehead, massaging his temples as he often does in stressful situations.

  
“The soul of the Prince,” Kyvris said, eyes flicking towards the other two. “The soul of the Prince is needed to complete the ritual. It is of utmost importance that I return to Hell with the Prince tonight. The very integrity of reality is at risk.” Raibyr laughed.

  
“The prince? What are you talkin’ about? We’re far from royalty, if you couldn't tell,” he said, motioning towards their very modest traveling clothing, riddled with rips and saturated with dirt and grime. Says the elven prince, Azalea thought.

  
“What does that mean? Ollie, what--” 

  
“Shut up, for once in your life!” he screamed, clasping his hands on his ears and squeezing his eyes shut, falling to his knees. Azalea was stunned. Oliver never had outbursts like that, let alone at her. Even as little kids they never had shouting matches or anything of the sort. Oliver was always great at keeping his emotions in check and never let them control him. Even Ray seemed stunned, and he hadn’t even known the boy for a week yet. 

  
“What the hell, man?” Ray mumbled, his brow creasing. Oliver blinked and looked up at Azalea, panic on his face. 

“I-I wasn’t-- not you-- I’m sorry,” he blurted, shutting his eyes tight and dropping his head into his hands. Azalea raised a hand to her lips, the wildest of thoughts racing through her mind. This wasn’t like him at all and she was concerned. She had no idea what could have caused him to act like that. Had her brother gone crazy?

  
Kyrvis chuckled. “Oh ho ho, I see now,” she purred. “So you haven’t told them.” His head rose to meet the goddess’ gaze, further intensifying the feeling of dread forming in his stomach. 

  
"No, I--”

  
“Keeping a secret that big from your companions? And to think they trusted you. Such a shame,” she crowed, circling around Oliver’s crouched form. “I mean, I can get keeping a secret of such magnitude from this drowned street rat of a former prince,” she glanced provokingly at Ray, who would have exploded on her if the knowledge that she could tear him to pieces in the blink of an eye didn’t hold him back.

  
“But your younger sister?” she shook her head disapprovingly. “The one person closest to you in the entire world?” Another laugh. A tilt of the head. “Oh, my bad. Now that’s not right, is it, _Eldrin?_

  
Oliver’s heart stopped. He couldn’t breathe. None of this was happening. It was all a nightmare, and he would wake up and everything would be fine…. But he didn’t, and it wasn’t. Kyvris laughed, raising a hand up towards the sky, a fountain of white arching out from her fingertips. The light grew and filled their vision until all they could see was white. The entire temple had disappeared. They were in a white space, devoid of any beginning or end, infinitely stretching outwards beyond the horizon. There was nothing. Nothing but the four of them and silence-- that is, until the voice began to fade in. 

  
“.......she really…? Oh my god, Oliver. We're screwed.”

With the voice came a figure.

  
It was Oliver. But it wasn’t. The figure was three inches taller than Oliver’s height, and his messy hair was ten shades too dark. He wore no glasses and his eyes, normally a gentle green, had turned a ferocious red. But the eyes themselves weren’t ferocious. They were filled with worry. Worry and fear.

  
He was staring at Azalea and Ray with a look of shock (the looks of whom far surpassed the level of shock he showed), frozen like a deer in headlights.

  
Oliver chuckled; quietly at first, but rising in volume as he went on. The second boy jerked his head back to Oliver and stepped back a bit, startled.

  
“You knew this was coming, Eldrin.” Oliver spoke quietly, his eyes dark and distant. “She told us it was coming. She warned us.” Eldrin stood in shock, mouth agape.

  
“Don’t be fucking dense! This isn’t going to solve anything!”

  
“Why are you so against this? Why do you care?” Oliver shouted out of nowhere. The words hit Eldrin like a truck. A big, heavy, emotional truck of anger.

  
“Why do I care?” he yelled back, rage welling in his chest. “What kind of goddamn question is that?! Oliver, we’ve been together our entire lives. We’re the same person, for God’s sake. How could I not?” He felt a lump slowly rising in his throat.

  
“So the only reason you want to stop me is so you can save your own ass? Is that what you’re saying? I’m doing this so you don’t have to!” Oliver cried.

  
“Where the hell--? Of course not! I care about you, dumbass! I--” Eldrin’s voice broke. “I don’t know how to live without you.” He almost immediately saw the change in Oliver’s expression, as if the words had caught him off guard. Eldrin was being sincere. He had lived his whole life being body-buddies with Oliver; he didn’t know what he would do if he had to live life on his own. He’d go insane, he reckoned. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed Oliver.

  
Eldrin was right, Oliver realized. It was really only then when he noticed the unsettling silence in the back of his mind. There was no chatter, no stray thoughts that weren't his, no irritating but oddly welcomed quips from an unseen entity. Not even a general feeling of another presence. It was just him in his mind and him alone. It felt cold and empty, and he did not like it one bit. But he knew this was how it would have to be, the malicious cloud of guilt taking hold of him once more. 

Oliver looked down towards the ground with the sad contemplative look Eldrin knew all too well, his eyes darting back and forth between invisible possibilities.

  
“I… I’ve gotta do this. I deserve this. I deserve it. I- I killed that priest. A priest. Just because he was talking bad about us. He said that we were dangerous. He was right. We are-- I am dangerous.”

  
“Are you joking?! We were both in control, we’re equally as guilty here! But I was the one who ended his life! That was my decision--”

  
“But it was my anger! My anger drove us to that point!”

  
Eldrin's legs felt weaker than they had ever felt before. He couldn’t believe what was happening. He couldn’t believe that Oliver, the goddamn rational one, was trying to carry such a heavy burden on his shoulders when the reasoning for it was completely irrational. He stumbled forward, hand out towards his other half. 

  
“Oliver, God damn it, no. You can’t do this,” he choked out angrily. “You can’t just kill yourself and leave us to solve all your problems!” Oliver stared at the ground, clenching a fist in frustration. 

  
“Don’t say it like that! I’m not--” he shouted through tears, hiding his face. “I’m not an idiot, okay? I know what I’m doing. I know this is right.”

  
Oliver was never one to lash out like this, and Eldrin knew it. He must have been beyond frustrated to feel the need to do so. The only reason he ever got that mad was when he--

  
Eldrin felt the sharp pang of realisation in his chest as his heart sank. There was nothing he could do to change Oliver’s mind.

  
The beginnings of tears stung his eyes. He would normally be mortified if anyone saw him crying, but in this moment, he didn’t give a shit. He made no attempts to stop them from pooling.

  
“Oh my God, Oliver, please. You can’t do this. Please, man. We- We promised, remember..?”

  
“....”

  
“We promised…”

~ ~ ~

“So he kills himself in the end?” Eldrin asked, cocking his head. The soft evening light trickled into the dark room through an open window, the breeze gently jostling the silk curtains like branches on a tree. Oliver looked up from the book in his hands and gave a quizzical look.

  
“Yeah. It literally said--” Oliver squinted, trying to read the small text, “--the cords of his face still moved with a semblance of life, but life was quite gone,’ Eldrin. I think… I think it’s pretty clear he’s dead. They used the word ‘body’ multiple times.”

The pair had just finished reading The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, a book which was one in a long list of classics they had yet to read. It was a hobby taken up by Oliver, who, after reading Romeo and Juliet freshman year, developed a great interest in older pieces of literature. There was something about the flow of the writing and the authors’ perspective of the world displayed through the stories that appealed to him. Eldrin looked at him and scoffed.

  
“Pfft, what a lame way to go. I mean, killing yourself? Come on, man,” Eldrin tossed his head to the side, crossing his arms. Oliver smiled and laughed quietly at the comment, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. It made Eldrin feel good that Oliver was being anything other than gloomy. He had really been under the weather lately and it was even beginning to weigh on Eldrin, too. To his dismay, however, the smile vanished about as soon as it had appeared. Oliver lowered his head slightly, his eyes flicking back and forth in worried glances over the pages. Eldrin frowned and floated over towards the bed, worrying he said something wrong. He opened his mouth to say something when Oliver broke the silence for him.

  
“Can you promise me something?” he asked. Eldrin looked up, surprised at the sudden change of tone in his voice. Oliver’s forest green eyes were filled with a mix of seriousness and worry, a mix Eldrin had seen quite frequently the past couple weeks. He straightened his posture and crossed his legs.

  
“What?”

  
“Can… Can you promise me that we won’t ever get to that point? And- And if we do, can we promise that we won’t take the easy way out? That we won’t decide to off ourselves?” Oliver said. Eldrin wanted to laugh, but part of him was begging himself not to. It was silly to him that Oliver thought that a fictional story could apply to their real life, but, then again, there they were, two consciousnesses sharing a single body. The idea they could end up like the book wasn’t so far fetched, the longer he thought about it. He didn’t want to. He shook his head quickly to clear his mind of the thought.

  
“Please.” He parted his lips slightly in partial shock at Oliver’s adamance that he agreed.  
“I promise,” he said, leaning backwards in his little invisible air canopy and folding his arms behind his head. A small smile found its way onto Oliver’s face, causing one to form on Eldrin’s as well. “Plus, if you try suicide, I’ll kill you, you dumbass.”

~ ~ ~

Eldrin could barely see through the corporeal tears. Even though he had no physical form they still felt as real as ever. He tasted the saltiness of them as they met his lips, and he felt the tickle of them run down his cheeks and to the floor. 

  
Oliver stood, guilt filling him at the sight of his counterpart’s distress. He couldn't ever fathom Eldrin showing emotions outwardly, let alone breaking down in front of him. He was always desperate to keep up that rough, hardened appearance that sometimes Oliver forgot he even had emotions. It had been easy to forget, lately even more so. Besides, wasn't having the nervous breakdowns usually his job? A small smile tugged at his lips as he exhaled. It quickly disappeared as he scolded himself for feeling something even remotely close to amusement in their current situation. He felt ashamed.   


“Listen--” He began before being cut off by a sudden loss of air. Eldrin had pulled him desperately into an aggressive bear hug, briefly knocking the wind out of him. He stood, shocked, before leaning into the embrace. He wrapped his arms gently around his friend, tears pooling in his eyes, which he squeezed shut promptly. 

The two seemed to have no intent of ever letting go.

After what felt like hours, Oliver gently opened his eyes and met Azalea’s shock-filled Aqua gaze. He pulled back from the hug and stepped once towards his sister, arm held out gently.

“I'm sorry I never told you.”

  
He grabbed her hand.

  
“I know none of this makes sense. It will soon,” he said, tears dripping from his face, making a small puddle on the floor. Azalea’s own tears soon joined them as she began to cry, but rather out of confusion and fear. He was right-- none of what she was seeing was making sense to her. She didn't know what was going to happen, but judging by this mysterious new boy’s reaction it was not something good. Frankly, she was terrified. What was happening to Oliver?   


“Oliver, I--” she began. Kyvris cleared her throat gently, and Oliver took that as a sign to leave. 

  
“I have to go.” he dropped her hand and turned his back, walking towards the goddess. She offered her hand to him, but he hesitated. Turning around with a sad smile, he looked towards his three friends for the last time. “Things will work out. Trust me.” With that, he turned back around.

He placed his hand into hers.

And in a flash of black feathers, they were gone.

**Author's Note:**

> whether he knows it or not, he's right. things will work out. may that be for him or for everybody else will be a mystery.


End file.
